


And a "Boo!" to you, too

by TechieHux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Groundhog Day (1993) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Animal Play, Candy, Character Death, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crack, Dark, Drabble Collection, Drunken Shenanigans, Dubious Consent, Escape, Experimental Style, Fluff, Haiku, Huxloween, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Injury, La Llorona, Lost Love, M/M, Mad Science, Mixed Media, Monsters, Murder, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Resurrection, Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Incest, Spell Failure, Spells & Enchantments, Storytelling, Trick or Treating, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechieHux/pseuds/TechieHux
Summary: Huxloween 2018 prompts ft. Kylux, Techienician, and Clydeland!Last four (connected) prompts:[First Halloween Together, Horror Movie AU, Apocalypse, Things that go Bump in the Night]Clyde and Stensland have a very horrific Halloween party.





	1. Fall Decor

Hux knelt before the dais, expression pure stone. Ren cuts an imposing figure, a dark, looming presence with lips pulled back in a half-snarl. Even in physical submission to another, Hux remains impeccable: back straight as can be, not a hair out of place. He looks more a leader than Ren, who breathes through his mouth like a beast, black locks wild.

“Supreme Leader, if I may-,“ and then his words cut sharply off. “What is _that_?”

Ren, expecting a report and not a confused shriek, whirls around just in time to see where Hux’s arm (with the pale sliver of wrist exposed, _damn_ ) signals, and…

“Oh,” he says, then turns back around, sagging with relief. “That’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It’s an object foreign to space stuck to your wall, Ren!”

Ren raises a single brow. “You’re scared of a leaf? Hux… Really?” He’d known Hux had been injured rather badly in his takeover from Snoke, but… A concussion? Permanent brain damage? The medbay would have to be alerted.

“It’s the color of my hair,” Hux persists, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the thin autumn leaf, impossibly pinned to the durasteel wall by a single tack. It has five points, colored a light red at the center that melts into deep brown towards the edge. What makes its presence tangibly ridiculous is that it is a _single_ leaf on the wide expanse of blank wall.

Ren sighs, rests his head on his hand. “I tried to match the season. It _is_ autumn on some planet out there, probably. Be grateful that I’m in a festive mood, Hux! Do you know how difficult it was to _import_ that thing?”

Hux’s face does that twitch that means he’s trying not to sneer.

It’s oddly attractive... Ren goes red as the leaf.

Put off by how hot the room has gotten, Ren waves his hand dismissively and turns to the right to avoid Hux’s intense gaze. “This is pointless. You are dismissed.”

With an annoyed shake of the head, Hux straightens up and makes to stalk out of the room. His plan is horribly interrupted when, in a rush to escape this strange situation, Hux runs right into the "decorative" severed head of a fallen enemy.

His shriek is heard throughout the entire Supremacy.


	2. Makeup/Wigs

“Hold still,” Matt mumbles, a bobby pin between his lips as he cautiously pats a brush with pale, peach dust under Techie’s lids. He stops fidgeting as best he can to let his boyfriend work in peace, but the temptation to open his eyes and look at himself in the mirror behind Matt is too strong.

“Holy shit,” Techie breathes, hands rising to clutch instinctively at Matt’s bicep. “Mattie, I look- s-so _nice_!” And, damn it all, he takes a deep, shuddering breath; close to tears.

Matt smiles and says insistently, “You always do.” He leans far back and stretches his arms over his head. Something pops in his left shoulder when he does, and the tiny stool Matt’s perched on almost tips over.

Techie straightens him back up and presses their lips together in a quick, grateful kiss. The kindness warms him from the inside out. Rarely is he on the receiving end of a good deed.

The bobby pin drops to the floor, forgotten, in the split second that Matt realizes his love is leaning forward.

Then Matt looks over his handiwork: After hours of sweating over concealer, powder, and watching make-up tutorials on the holonet, the skin around Techie’s eyes is the same color as his skin. Covered-up is the ever-present red rim of allergies and irritation. Missing, too, are the tattoos on his forehead and neck (thanks to layer upon layer of concealer- Matt had painstakingly gone over the ink until not a single trace remained.

Like this, Techie looks younger, less burdened. It’s odd seeing him so… different. Matt felt like he was in the same room as a Techie of another universe, a more innocent world who had handled Techie with silk gloves instead of harsh blows. He cups Techie’s cheek in his warm palm and kisses him again. This is still his Techie, the one who moans so enthusiastically at every swipe of his tongue. The one who tastes so sweet. Isn’t he?

“Your turn!” Techie smiles, still a little misty-eyed, and bends to take the pin off the floor. It’s the first of many he uses to pin back Matt’s wild blonde curls until they’re flat to his head. What a sight! Next he reaches for the wig: black, long waves of perfectly styled hair.

“The Kylo Ren wig,” Matt gasps, awed just from being in its presence. He fights the urge to kneel. When Techie places it over his hair as though it were a regal crown, Matt starts to hyperventilate.

Afterwards, they stand and survey each other in silence.

Matt looks almost exactly like Kylo Ren, and a twinge of anxiety shoots up Techie’s spine. Even his expression is harder, more distant and brooding. He reaches out a hand and grasps the hem of Matt’s Kylo disguise, feeling that it’s urgent he speaks up. “Mattie, you look…”

This doesn’t feel right. It was supposed to be _good_ for them and yet it’s _wrong._ Aren’t they who they’d always wanted to be?

“You l-look handsome, but you’re not… You’re… I don’t, um, I don’t love Kylo Ren.”

Matt’s face softens immediately, and both of their relief is clear.

Matt-as-Kylo-Ren removes the wig and cradles it in his hands like a child. “I mean, I wanted… this. To dress up for Halloween. But I thought you’d think I was hotter if I were him?” His cheeks turn red, embarrassed.

Techie furrows his brows. “Well, I- I wanted. To look more normal… Cuter, for you…?”

They stare at each other for another long moment. And then the laughing starts. Lovestruck fools, the both of them!

 

* * *

 

 “You’re p-perfect as you are,” a sated Techie whispers later, curled up nude against Matt’s side. They’d never made it to the Halloween party and his make-up is smeared all over his face and Matt’s stomach.

Matt kisses him deep, slow. “Not as perfect as you."


	3. Scary Stories by the Fire

“A young man, naïve and soft-hearted, treads lightly up the brick steps that lead to a dimly-lit mansion, dwarfing him with its size. The few and far between streetlights flicker, drawing moths and all sorts of humming insects to the intermittent light. He stands upon the threshold and knocks; once, twice, a basket of pastries in his grip for the old man rumored to live inside. Loose lips claim the man lives alone, forgotten by family and, with age, becoming unable to care for himself. Other sources claim otherwise: that the previous inhabitant has been slain by a beast that lives within and now makes his home at the residence- “

“They say the beast has thick, rippling muscles and strong arms, sharp teeth and a thick, always hard cock that leaks at the head like- ”

“Kylo Ren _,_ it is _my_ turn to tell a story! Do not interrupt with your perversions.”

“Hmph.”

“The door, heavy and riddled with scars in the dark wood, slooowly swings open. ‘Hello?’ the boy asks, before peeking his pale, worried face inside. There are a few candles lit that illuminate the vacant sitting room; surely the old man resides here yet, alive and well. He breathes a sigh of relief and- “

“Feels something hot press against his neck. Warm, wet, and moving down to his shoulder…”

“Hm. Not a bad addition, actually. He brings his trembling fingertips to the warmth and his knees buckle when they come back drenched in what can only be fresh blood, smelling of harsh copper and trickling steadily down his shirt. The boy looks up, raw terror in his gaze, when- ”

“Fuck, the beast was supposed to be _licking_ him! It’s not blood!”

“Exactly _who_ is telling the story here, you petulant child? Shut up. This is not erotica.”

“It should be. You suck balls at this.”

“You know what? Fine! Take a stab at it. You’ll see mine is best.”

“The beast, a full head taller than the other man and three times as strong, snatches him by his soft hips and slams the door shut behind him. Before the kid can escape, he’s hauled into an empty, dusty office with a huge desk and immediately bent over it, ass out. His hole is tight and a sweet, dusky pink. A virgin for the beast to eat up! The monster’s cock throbs, eager to ease his aching, lonely arousal by using this warm body as a cumdump. He wants to breed the young man, fill him with monster seed and keep him as a cocksleeve- “

“Ren, this is absolute garbage. Not frightening at all! At least make your ridiculous werewolf porn the smallest bit scary. I’m not even trembling.”

“But you’re hard.”

“… _fuck you.”_


	4. Escape Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon his father discovering that he spends time with Ben Solo, the young son of their enemies, Armitage is locked up in the attic as punishment. But it’ll be Halloween night soon, and he’d promised Ben they’d go trick-or-treating...


	5. Lovecraftian Stories

Hux sits on his desk, drinking bitter tarine tea. Spilling it all over his chest as his hands shake. He lights a cigar; takes deep, desperate puffs. The screams from outside grow louder from behind the blockaded door, his chair pressed hard against the knob. Hux combs trembling fingers through his stiff hair, breaking the pomade’s hold and making the ginger locks wild. 

Just as wild as the trapped, hunted look in his pale eyes. 

It doesn’t matter. 

He cannot escape.

Heavy steps from outside the door. Deep, labored breathing; the static hum of a saber. 

Another sip of tea, a hysterical curve to his lips.

Breathless, inevitable: 

“Come in.”


	6. Desecration

Old man Snoke is buried next to Brendol and Han. Three spots of raised ground all in a row amongst the tangled roots of tall, ink-black forest. Their murderers stand admiring the makeshift graves, hands clasped and cheeks flushed.

“No more, my love. Nobody stands in our way,” one of them grins, echoing both their thoughts. The man with hair of flame whispers endearments into his lover’s ear, hands roaming with hunger, until their breaths come in heavy, until the simmering heat overflows and they undress on the filthy, disturbed ground.

“You’re beautiful,” gasps the youngest man when the redhead climbs into his willing lap, grinding their lengths together. The thought of those who caused them pain, denied them each other for so long, entombed six feet below is _glorious._

“Mine, all mine. Finally,” laughs the thinner of the two, riding his husband- _husband!_ \- into oblivion, radiating pure light as they make love over the final resting place of their victims. Of their abusers. “Men fit together just fine, don’t they, dear?”

Afterwards, they share tender kisses and imagine the lifeless bones roiling under them, tortured.

**True love triumphed.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I do not condone murder even if the ones getting killed ARE homophobes.


	7. Spell Gone Wrong

The discovery of an old tome led to a breakthrough in Kylo Ren’s training: spellcraft. With enough of the Force directed behind certain painstakingly arranged words, nothing was impossible.

It was this that had him holed up for days on end, feverishly murmuring words of power from the tome until his sight blurred and the world tipped sideways. Hux had sent a grand total of six reminders for some tedious meeting that served a very boring, practical purpose and, as such, Ren was not inclined to attend even if he _hadn’t_ been casting a complex, potentially dangerous spell.

Another chime from the datapad. Sweat beads on Ren’s tense brow, concentration dangerously close to being broken. “Ehra, mes- vastu alleh, khen-!” Ancient words, long since out of use but trembling with suppressed power. A drop of his sweat hits the age-old ink, smearing the final word.

_Ding!_

“HUX!” Ren roars, hands flying up to grasp his hair in frustration. _Fuck Hux, fuck the tome, fuck these damn WORDS and-_

From his lap, the tome erupts into mad sparks and sets his robe on fire.

* * *

The next time he sees his nemesis, Hux is protesting while getting scanned in medbay. The extra cock he’s suddenly grown is rather embarrassingly small even in its perpetually aroused state, and Ren has to wonder exactly _what_ that spell was meant to do…


	8. Monsters From Your Culture

Techie cups his boyfriend’s cheeks and brings him in for a long, wet kiss. When they pull back, flushed, Matt opens the door to his home wider. An invitation. But Techie is virginal, nervous, and despite his all-consuming love and lust for Matt… he’s not ready. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, tangling their hands together under the dim illumination of the porch-light. The empty rocking chair rocks slightly, only once. The breeze, likely, and yet it still makes Techie’s skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Okay, darling,” Matt drawls, in that deep, sexy voice that makes Techie want to forget all his insecurities and bare himself, nude, to his love. Then drop to his knees.

With another breathless, parting kiss, they go their own ways: Matt inside his warm, safe home and Techie out to brave the long trudge through the autumn chill to his car. He’d left his beat-up, yellow VW tucked away by the side of the river, down from the worn trail that led up the hill to Matt’s home, just for an excuse to take longer on their little hiking date. Before that, in the daylight, they’d sat by the river and indulged in some heavy petting.

Their conversation, suggestive and affectionate, had been enough to block the cold of the night. Not this time, when Techie was hunched over and taking the walk alone, hands in his pockets as he shivered. There’s very little sound beside the rustling of the leaves and Techie’s ragged breathing. Until.

A long, lone wail. It’s coming from all directions, inexplicable, and Techie freezes, knees weak. “H-Hello?” he whispers, eyes wide. Does… does somebody need help?

But, no. With a start, Techie recalls the rumor; White, ripped suit, a black veil, soulless dark eyes wet with tears, and the tall, howling creature at the center. He’d been human, once, before killing his beloved in a fit of rage. The body, beaten and drowned, was swept away by the river, and once he’d come back to himself, it was much too late.

His husband lay dead by his own hands.

 

**_My love, come back to me. Please, darling-_**

With complete, chilling certainty, Techie knows what he is hearing. His heart hammers, jack-rabbit fast. Techie forces his eyes open wide and breaks into a run for the river, for his car. That monster will not get near Matt, never ever. Techie would rather die than lead El Llorón right to his sweetheart.

And die he will, because the sobbing beast catches him right from behind in the middle of a sprint. He’s worn down to bones, wedding suit hanging off like rotten flesh. The wailing only gets worse, faster, fury seeping into them. With sharp fingers he grasps into the soft flesh of Techie’s hips, hissing with anger at the give beneath its claws.

“ _Shit,_ h-holy shit! Please don’t hurt me! Oh god, oh _fuck-!”_

El Llorón leans in closer to Techie, breathing harshly from the intense sobs that wrack its body, eye sockets a void. It smells of decay, rotten, rancid- He’s squirming, struggling in the tight grip, silent tears slipping down his cheeks as he tries to escape, but there’s no hope and they both know it.

 

Until-

 

El Llorón traces its fingers over the curve of Techie’s nose, the cheekbones, up towards the ginger sideburns and then through the long, thick red locks. **_“Hux,”_** he gasps, and the tears start anew, this time dropping Techie and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Unable to do anything and terrified beyond words, Techie stiffly lets the ghastly creature hold him, whisper apologies in the mournful, low rumble of a voice from hundreds of years ago.

Techie fears that it’ll change its mind and tear into his throat like the stories always go, quivering in his hold, until the cellphone in his pocket rings. The screen lights up through the fabric of his pants, and El Llorón, to his surprise, fishes it out.

Matt’s contact photo is a selfie taken on their first date a year ago, at an airy, warm café holding matching mugs of hot cocoa. His contact name is _Mattie_ with an emoji heart. They look disgustingly in love, even this early on.  El Llorón drops the phone on the autumn leaves and rasps, defeated and aching from deep within, **_“Treasure him.”_**

There’s no way this is real. Techie scoops up his phone and runs towards the bright light of Matt’s porch, Matt’s home and his heart, a beacon amongst the deep black of the night, the deep black of El Llorón’s eyes.

When he turns around mid-run, El Llorón is wailing again, facing up towards the sky. In pain, in torment, arms wrapped tight around himself. **_“Hux!”_** he cries, again and again, but he will never find true relief for the ache of a love lost.


	9. Groundhog Day

There’s no rush, not at all.

There used to be, when the TV announcers would paste smiles on their faces and cry between commercials, one blur of “The End of the World” segments until Matt’s head spun and ears rang. He’d never been a fearful man, more likely to be _causing_ the fear, but… He wasn’t alone anymore.

His husband used to shake and sob on the floor in front of the television, cradling their stunned toddler in his arms. “Oh, my d-darling… sweetling, d-daddy’s got you.”

They had until tonight at midnight to be alive. For humanity to live.

But there’s no rush.

They’d gone to bed, all three of them, curled up together in one tangle of love and terror. William held Matt’s hand tight, _so tight_ , legs tangled under the covers, with their daughter sleeping peacefully between their warm chests. She was too young to know they had only minutes left.

And, yet.

They’d awoken in the morning, the TV once again bemoaning the end of the world on every channel.

William laughs, then sobs, embraces Matt and they make messy love in triumph, in awe; _We’re alive! You’re mine, always, Mattie-!_

The end of the world comes every night, and four years later, William whispers to his daughter, “We have all the time in the world.”


	10. Sugar High

> [Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ICWZgwgptE)  
>  [ Every kiss you give me, it makes me sicker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ICWZgwgptE)

“Again,” Hux groans, voice ragged, into Kylo Ren’s luscious mouth, settled into his lap like he deserves. Indulgence at its finest; he grinds down to coax the sweetest sounds.

“Careful, Hux,” Ren grins, lips swollen and lush while his tongue wraps possessively around the scarlet cherry candy. He denies Hux any direct taste, only allowing the rich, imbibed saliva to swap between them.

They hadn’t always been this shameless.

The first touch of their lips had been a surprise, Ren initiating the light peck on a moment’s whim. Hux had inhaled sharply, going rigid. Unresponsive.

And then it was one more. Another. Just one more. Again.

An indulgence turned to an obsession.

Cornering each other in empty rooms, prying that ridiculous helmet off in the hallways, devouring each other in the still of their quarters; more _, more, give me MORE, Ren-_

When Hux cums, breathing hard into Ren’s mouth, against Ren’s thick thigh, surrounded by Ren, Ren, REN…

The delicious cherry candy, so sugary sweet, ends up in Hux’s mouth.

 

It’s bitter.


	11. Creature Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death! Sort of.

Hux looks through lowered lashes at the slim, trim figure atop the metal gurney. He walks, leisurely, around; Inspecting, calculating. Perfect, or just about. Runs his calloused fingers over the thick, lank locks. “Hello, William.”

The human below opens wide, blank-blue eyes and stares straight ahead, unseeing.

Hux clicks his tongue. “Can’t see, can you, darling? Well. We’ll have to fix that.” With a quick gesture, he summons his mousy assistant, the ever-nervous Mitaka, who scurries in with his head down. He’s ready for a lecture, disapproval, or an order, always.

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“Run the diagnostic scans again. The specimen’s optic nerves are not functioning.”

“Of, of, c-course,” Mitaka whimpers, and jerks into action, reaching for datapads and scrawled notes, pages upon pages of organic-mechanical evolution equations. With Hux out of sight, Mitaka sighs and pets the creature’s- no, _William’s_ \- hair. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, heart clenched tight. “It’s wrong, wh-what Dr. Hux did to you, but…”

William shifts, lips parting. No air comes out when his chest raises and lowers. Laid naked and bare against the gurney, metal restraints around boney wrists and ankles. But he doesn’t move much, as a rule.

“Dr. Hux rebuilt you. Now you’re part of s-something _bigger_! The future! I c-can’t imagine you miss being a cheap whore, right?” Mitaka laughs quietly, a timid little thing. Traces his eyes down the stitches that hold together the mix-and-match limbs, licking his lips.

His fingers trace the stitches, too, stopping admiringly at the bulge of William’s adam apple. “So, so beautiful,” Mitaka breathes, enraptured. “I’m just sorry Hux, um… _k-killed_ you as messy as he did. He’s usually so much cleaner, quicker, about it.” Mitaka presses a shy kiss to the tip of his cold nose as an apology.

 

William stretches wide open his mouth, ripping the spider-webbing stitches across his face, and releases a bloodcurling wail.


	12. Mind Control

There is a simple solution to the most obnoxious thorn in Ren’s side. One word with the Force and Hux could be helpless, bent to his will, mindlessly licking his boots in surrender.

Hux is infuriating. His smug smirk when he thinks he’s won some argument, the blatant ass-kissing, the insubordination.

The way his eyes trail longingly after Ren when he stomps away, so sure he’s being discrete.

Ren aches to ready marionette strings for plucking as Hux’s mind lies blissfully silent like calm, clear waters. Have Hux at his beck and call.

Sometimes Hux will make space for Ren at the helm, so they can stand side by side. Their shoulders will brush, light, and the contact shoots up Ren’s spine. When he glances aside, Hux is without fail suppressing an odd smile.

He cannot do it.

The truth is… Ren is attracted like a moth to flame to Hux’s mind. It’s sharp, orderly, compartmentalized; brimming with ideas, plans- with a low, murmuring undercurrent of _affection_ and it’s so strange, so satisfying to dip his psychic fingers into those waters. To experience them secondhand. To be the _subject_ of that odd, misplaced affection.

So Kylo Ren will put up with the rabid arguments, the jabs, the frustration.

Extinguishing the flame of Hux’s autonomy will make his life easier, yes. But it will leave them both cold.


	13. Pet Costume

“I look fucking dumb,” Matt grumbles, embarrassed, as the mocha kitten ears perched atop his head begin their perilous sliiiide down. It doesn’t help that he’s nearly naked, only tight brown shorts hugging his ass and thick, muscular thighs. The wire-enforced fabric tail is lovingly stitched to the back.

Techie laughs and pets his husband affectionately, ruffling the blond curls. “You’re adorable! Boop!” He presses the point of a black marker to the tip of Matt’s shapely nose, drawing a cute little cat nose and whiskers. His dexterous hands continue their merry way all over Matt’s scalp, massaging and kneading until the tension starts to evaporate.

Matt leans heavily on the wall, eyes lowered, so content he could almost purr. The bed creaks when Techie adjusts himself to get to another, untouched spot on Matt’s body. Down his neck, to his pectorals -those huge _tits_ \- running teasing fingertips over pebbling nipples.

“Mm,” Matt hums, chest heaving. This wasn’t exactly a kink he was into, but Techie’s hands felt so damn good…

“Who’s a good kitty? A, um, g-good, soft boy?” A kiss to his left nipple shoots sparks up his spine.

Matt answers, breathy, “I guess that’s me… Nngh!” Techie’s sweet mouth licks a stripe down to Matt’s bellybutton, and then he presses hot, wet kisses to the bulge in his shorts. “Fuck, baby,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut tight, cheeks warm.

“Let me g-give you cuddles, kitten,” Techie coos, looking slightly embarrassed (though there’s no denying his own cute erection, tenting the front of his long, baggy shirt.)

Matt obediently lies back on the bed amongst the pillows, belly up, and keens when Techie rubs right over his clothed cock. Impatient, he shifts and stretches, feline-like, muscles rippling. His husband’s jaw drops, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Only then does Techie pull down his shorts and stroke Matt’s thick, slick cock. It’s flushed an angry red, dribbling precum as it curves heavily towards his bare stomach. “Ah, nngh, m-more,” rasps Matt, who can’t help but twitch his hips up into that tight, hot grip. “Baby-!”

This is more than he can handle; the cat ears have slipped down completely to his eyebrows, he’s flushed rosy red all over, and enjoys being pet and caressed indulgently _way_ too much.

Techie’s tongue joins the torture, giving cute little kitten licks to the velvety tip.

_He_ should have been the kitten instead, Matt thinks, nearly delirious. His hips buck wildly off the bed to get more of that sweet, sinful mouth on him. Techie is a perfect kitty, a sex kitten, so warm and soft and willing, a sweet hole to sink into and-

Matt comes with a sob, and Techie strokes him gently through it, murmuring praise and baby-talk against his thigh. When he comes down from the high, Techie is licking the cum off his stomach and chest like it’s cream.

They both eye the rabbit ears on the nightstand.

“Your turn?”


	14. Corn Maze

“Darlin’? Where’d you go?” Clyde runs a hand through his thick sweat-soaked locks, squinting against the sun. Stensland was nowhere to be found. After being lost together in the maze for a good hour or two, he’d excused himself to piss behind one of the rows of tall green stalks and promptly wandered off, away from his boyfriend.

“Stens?” Clyde hollers, brows furrowed. The joke was that Stensland’s hair matched the color of the corn, so he’d worn an all-green outfit and brown flip-flops to blend in with his “people” … and it wasn’t funny anymore, not when Clyde hadn’t seen hide or hair of his boyfriend for going on an hour now.

Nervous, Clyde grits his teeth and wipes sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand as he passes the same exact bent stalk for the fourth time. “Stensland, please? Honey?” What if he’s hurt? What if the cops have taken him? He **never** should have gotten involved with him, the Logans were fucking _cursed_ and he can’t propose now, not EVER, knowing that Stensland will be Stensland Logan and he’ll be cursed, too!

When he finally finds Stensland, sitting slouched against a huge wall of corn and sleeping like the dead, Clyde’s heart clenches up. Oh. He couldn’t survive without Stens if he tried.

Stensland is smeared in dirt and with a sheen of sweat all over his skin, and yet… He’s never been so beautiful.

Clyde sighs with relief and takes off his floppy straw hat, pulling the brim over his love’s eyes to shield them from the sun’s oppressive, orange rays. Then he curls up next to Stensland, quiet as a mouse, and lets him sleep.

Even if they’re terribly lost, as long as they have each other… are they lost, really?


	15. Were-Animals

The desk in the old mansion rocks and shakes with each wicked snap of the were-wolf’s hips. The beast is mid-thrust when Armitage bites his lip, lashes lowered, and clenches tight around the hard cock in his ass. Growling low and long, the werewolf floods the red-haired youth with cum and yanks carelessly at his own length until Armitage follows with a keen, spilling onto the desk and knocking over stacks of dusty paper.

It isn’t until a few minutes later that, sated and simultaneously annoyed, Armitage tries to slip the beast’s cock out from inside him and yelps with pain. “Ouch! Goddamn you, creature! Was it necessary to kidnap me? I would have slept with you if you’d asked nicely. Now I’m stuck to your fucking _knot_.”

The werewolf laughs and gives a shallow thrust. His voice is raspy with disuse when he says, “That’s the fun in all this, isn’t it, little prince? The big bad wolf breeds a soft, slutty bottom. It’s classic.”

Armitage huffs and props himself up on an elbow. “All I wanted was to be a ‘kind soul’ and check up on the old man who lived here. Did you eat him, nasty thing? Savage beast, hmph!”

“My name is **Ren** and you like it,” Ren grins wolfishly, before licking a hot stripe up to Armitage’s ear. The human moans and wiggles his hips, drawing the knot in deeper.

“Fuck, you feel good for a wild animal.” It’s a strange realization and yet it’s accurate. He hadn’t expected this bestial fuck in a haunted mansion, but he’d sure enjoyed it.

“I can deflower you again, if you like. It’s _that_ kind of dark fairy-tale.”

Armitage laughs, more a sharp gasp of breath than anything else. “Who said I’m a virgin, pup? And I’m going to abort your children if they take.”

“Fine by me,” Ren pouts, obviously displeased. He finally softens and pulls out. “The old man was delicious, by the way. But not as tasty as you’ll be.”

Armitage groans as hot cum leaks between his bare thighs.

“You’re right about that. Now lick,” he grins, and parts his cheeks with both hands.


	16. Double Dare

Techie sits cross legged in front of his twin, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Sh-should we really…?” His eyes, wide and worried, meet Hux’s cool, collected gaze.

Hux casts a side-glare at Ren, who grins wide. What a piece of shit.

“A dare is a dare, William. But a _double_ dare is twice as powerful. We’re compelled to act.”

His brother is being an overdramatic ass, but okay. Fine. He wants to show up his nemesis Ren? Techie will play along.

“Okay, we’ll…” a deep, shuddering inhale, “ _Okay_.”

Hux takes this as an affirmative and slinks towards Techie, sitting down right before him on the carpet of Ren’s living room. A few illicit drinks, sexual tension, and horny teenagers: a wonderful mix for a chaotic night.

When Hux slides right into his lap, Techie squeaks. He shifts his hips to get comfortable, drawing out a full-body flush from his twin, before encircling his arms around Techie’s neck. The smell of cheap booze is intoxicating.

The taste is even better.

Techie can only hold on, breathless, while Hux melds their mouths together in a filthy, wet kiss: all tongue and slight cants of the hips.

“Fuck,” Techie gasps, beet-red, when his brother pulls away. His dick is stirring and there’s no way Hux doesn’t feel it.

Ren whoops and claps, smacking Hux on the back. “Sexy as hell!” he laughs, and the game of drunk Truth or Dare continues with Matt hesitantly choosing “truth.”

But Hux’s gaze burns into the back of Techie’s head long after he leaves his lap.


	17. Scared Cuddling

“This is fine,” Hux says, teeth chattering. “We will get out of here perfectly whole.”

Not even Hux believes his own propaganda this time. They’ve been stranded on an unexplored planet for three days, sustaining grave injuries during a fight with the inhabitants.

All they had now was this cramped, drafty cave as a base.

Ren opens one eye, sluggish, and drags himself to Hux’s side. His concussion isn’t getting any better, and his head throbs once he carefully positions himself beside his… enemy? Ally? It doesn’t matter. They will die here, together, and it feels like a cosmic joke.

Hux is hanging on by a miracle. The blaster shot had taken out most of his left leg, leaving a bloody stump from the knee down which Ren had binded tight with his greatcoat to slow blood-loss.

The world spins and tilts on its axis for Ren, but having the shivering, terrified Hux beside him, so close, brings an odd sense of peace to the forefront. It drowns out the demons.

But Hux’s terror is a deep, hidden thing that washes over them both in waves. Ren slings an arm over Hux’s thin shoulders, bringing them ever-closer, and presses their foreheads together.

“Don’t be afraid,” he rasps. “I am here.” Ren tries to transfer the waves of concussed, confused acceptance and warmth to the redhead. Hux carefully leans into the touch, a wounded sound escaping his lips.

They seek solace in each other until the rescue shuttle finds them, and that odd, frail moment of connection haunts them for years to come.


	18. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death!

A withered hand comes to rest upon the perfectly arranged bones upon their bed. Ren grits his teeth and disturbs the thick layer of dust upon the satin sheets, tracing the shape of his husband’s name in Aurebesh, careful to avoid moving the remains by even a millimeter.

The ritual is nearing its tenth year. With each anniversary that passes, Ren funnels more and more of his powers, of witchcraft and devotion, into the body of his beloved. He’s so, so close-

He doesn’t see the sunspots on his own hand, the deep wrinkles that mar his face, or how long and wild his hair has gotten. The only thing in Ren’s world is Hux, laid to rest a decade ago and still consuming all of Ren’s thoughts, every waking moment.

Their daughter watches from the doorway as Ren kneels before the bed, _their_ bed, untouched for so long, and begins to chant. Quiet, lips quivering. Running his hands over the tibia, the femur, the skull. Louder, faster, sobbing the words with every ounce of strength he possesses.

“Return, Hux- Return to _me!”_

The bones tremble, hardly noticeable at first, and then harder, harder, rattling the entire bed. Tears of joy, of relief, fill Ren’s eyes.

Finally, my love.

Their daughter, horrified, tears out of the bedroom screaming. This obsession had driven her father mad, and now the body of her other father was being desecrated.

The process was hideous, revolting:

There’s tissue forming again over the marrow, blood vessels, nerves, then the brain forms. Ren watches enraptured as soft, ginger hair grows on the skin to compliment the neat fingernails. Hux’s skin pinks in all the right places, growing livelier, and Ren sobs.

He reaches out with a trembling hand to lace their fingers together, bringing the limp wrist up to kiss. “Hux,” he gasps against the warm skin. His husband stirs for the first time in years and the resulting inhale brings Ren to the edge of sanity.

“Hux! My love, Hux,” he cries, and nuzzles their faces together.

The look in Hux’s eyes is faraway, lost. “I… Ren?” he asks, and then the light flickers on behind his gaze. “You… you did it! Darling, I knew you would.” He looks young and vibrant, so _alive_ , and Ren wants to cower and hide his own advanced age.

“I’m sorry I look like this, it’s been so long,” he apologizes, hoarse, before dissolving into a coughing fit. His ragged sleeve comes back covered in speckles of blood.

Hux cups his cheek, presses their lips together sweetly. When he pulls back, there’s red smears on his teeth and he’s never been more beautiful.

“I was waiting for you, Ren. When you said you’d bring me back… I almost didn’t believe you,” Hux confesses. “Your love brought me back, darling, but I… I’m not supposed to be here. Come with me, Ren. I won’t die without you.”

Ren gapes, stands up straight on bad knees and envelopes his love in a tight hug. “I can’t live without you.”

“A predicament, I see,” Hux says, warm. He cards his fingers through Ren’s lank, thinning hair. “Come with me. Please, Kylo. I need you. You’re so tired.”

Ren eases into the touch, safe and secure at last.

“Okay,” he agrees, voice soft and peaceful. “I just wanted to see you like this one last time.” Wherever Hux is, Ren belongs. Another cough, his heart skips a beat. Then another. The ritual did not come without its side-effects.

“Lay with me,” Hux whispers. “Come, Kylo. I love you now and forever.”

When the servants find them, the elderly Kylo Ren is tucked securely in the arms of his long-dead husband, young and fresh-faced. Neither of them breathe.

They’re smiling.


	19. Trapped Souls

Hux never believed in the Judeo-Christian concept of heaven and hell. It was ancient, foreign, barbaric- and _real._ He’d peacefully closed his eyes one night surrounded by the luxury being Emperor afforded him, Ren’s chest rising with each breath beside him, and then… Hux opened his eyes in the morning, not in his own realm. Dead. Yet alive?

The body he’d known for years: older, greying hair, softer around the middle, was gone, replaced with his boney, lank younger self. Hux cringed at the reflection of himself he saw in the odd mirrors in his bedroom. For it _was_ his bedroom he awoke in, but fundamentally changed. Not his world.

Ren was no longer his husband, for one. Their opulent home was just as big as before, except empty, with a terrible draft, and covered in thick layers of dust. Hux spent days sequestered in the shell of their home. What would await him outside? The uncertainty was too much to handle.

Until, finally, he gets a grip on himself ( _thin as a slip of paper and just as useless)_ and… steps past the doorway.

There’s a long, white brick path. It tempts Hux forward, ever forward. At the end is what he longs for most: Ren, in a fitted suit. Smiling so wide, so gorgeous, and Hux doesn’t have any breath to catch. He’s in heaven, somehow, it must be. The flowers in his hair are sweet-smelling, intoxicating; he steps forward, transfixed, to kiss his husband when-

The scavenger runs to meet him, lifting her white dress and laughing when he picks her up, twirls her around.

It’s a punch to the gut.

The man he’s spent thirty years with, raised a daughter with, kissed and fought and wanted to kill and fucked for more than half of his entire life… Not his. _Hers._

Hux drops to his knees and finds he cannot scream.


	20. Abandoned Locations

Techie likes the dark. The quiet, too. After a too-long too-scary shift he scurries into the cramped, dark server room and finally breathes easy. This is a good place to relax.

Besides the soft hum of the machinery, Techie adores the solitude. Here, he takes off his orange technician jumper and takes in the heat from the running fans. In nothing but his soft, standard First Order underwear, he curls up in a corner and dozes off. Sometimes.

It’s bizarre, it’s unusual, it’s… what he likes to do.

Nobody ever comes in here. That’s what makes it so safe for Techie to gently pull at the thin lines of zipper that cross his body like scars.

First, the left leg at the knee. Then his foot at the ankle. The hand, the thigh, the hips. Once he’s nearly all dissembled, parts scattered across the floor leaving nothing but a torso with arms, Techie takes off his head from the neck and cradles it in his arms.

It’s then that Matt stumbles in.

And he’s, he’s-

“It’s okay,” he whispers, soft. “I knew.”

Techie’s lips quiver, shoulders shaking. “You don’t care?”

“Nothing changes,” Matt reassures him. “I’m the same, Techie.”


	21. Fall Bakery Sweets

“Pump-kin _spice_! Pump-kin _spice_!” Ren demands like a petulant child, banging his gloves fists on the countertop. His messy bun grows more and more loose the more excited he gets.

Hux snaps, “Shut your trap!” and dutifully piles the whipped cream high on Ren’s ridiculous pasty order lest his manager, Snoke, have him assassinated. His uniform is itchy where it meets his crotch and Hux does an odd little hop-skip towards Ren, sliding the porcelain plate with the fluffy pumpkin-spice topped cake across the counter.

Kylo Ren has been the bane of his existence since they met three years ago. They’re also dating.

He takes a huge mouthful of cake into his mouth in one bite, rubbing distractedly at his left eye and smearing the heavy eyeliner. Now his emo boyfriend looks even _more_ like a raccoon, and Hux is momentarily charmed before he corrects his thoughts.

“I’m going to be an engineer one day, and then you’ll have someone else making you pastries while you waste away studying for a never-ending arts degree,” Hux sniffs, but he still presses a kiss to the top of his filthy boy’s head.

“Whatever,” Ren says with his mouth full of dessert, and then leans up to kiss Hux full on the lips.

He tastes delicious.


	22. Shared Nightmares

Kylo’s nightmares are horrible affairs, leaving him with a sore jaw from gritting his teeth and with dark rims around his eyes. He would gladly wish the night terrors on his worst enemy. Not Hux, though. He’s not important enough to be Ren’s nemesis.

Unfortunately, Hux got tied up in Ren’s mess.

It wasn’t noticeable at first. A few extra cups of caf. A dull shine to Hux’s ice eyes, normally so sharp.

Ren corners Hux in the hallways while a tight-knit group of troopers pass by. “You feel it too,” he says, severe, and forces Hux’s chin up with two fingers. The look on his face is barely suppressed hatred with an unhealthy dose of pure exhaustion. They have matching dark rings.

“I have a solution,” Ren whispers, near the shell of Hux’s ear. Their warm bodies press closer together against the hard durasteel.

Flash forward a few hours and the scene is this:

Hux and Ren, tucked together in a single bed, curled and tangled around each other like a knot. Their shared sleep is peaceful from then on, but they’ll never speak of this arrangement for as long as they live.


	23. Witches

The coven is not to be messed with. Techie learns this quickly. He’s not strong enough to sit at their table, breathe their air, cast their curses. More a baby witchling than a powerhouse.

But it’s his first few days in a new school, and he didn’t know that.

When he approaches, shoulders drawn up tight and smile anxious while holding a tray of spaghetti sprinkled with fae dust, the biggest witch, Ren, scowls and growls, “The seat’s taken.”

The seat is, in fact, empty.

“Uh, um if y-you… say so?” Techie squeaks, trembling, and jumps out of his skin when, in the vacant spot, materializes a lean red-head, the spitting image of Techie himself. He dusts himself off and slips the wand into the sleeve of his black coat.

“Out of the way, worm,” he sniffs, and snuggles against Ren’s side. The broader of the two smirks and proceeds to swap spit with his witchy, bitchy boyfriend. The third witch, Phasma, sits stoically off to the side, face hard. Her biceps are enormous, and she shows teeth when Techie accidentally makes eye contact.

He scurries off to find a table who will accept him. It’s slow going. There’s all kinds of cliques here besides the coven, other supernatural types and monsters who tend to stick together in packs.

Techie thinks he may be the only other witch…

And then he bumps face-first into a bare, hairy chest and pulls back so quick he drops his tray. “Oh sh-shit!” Techie apologizes, bending down to gather what food he can salvage while trying not to think of how _good_ it felt to press his lips to warm skin.

The man bends down to help him, though his grip is a little clumsier with the claws. “I’m Matt,” he says, red-faced, and his thick glasses slide down his big nose. Techie is instantly smitten.

But do werewolves like witches, generally? Does this one even like _men_?

He gets his answer when Matt invites him to a private table where he usually sits alone. Not anymore, if Techie has a say in it. And after they get to talking, Matt slides his hand over Techie’s and whispers, face earnest and pleading, “Do you, do you, like werewolves at all?”

“Yes!” Techie blurts out, much too loud. The coven glances over.

Matt grins, sharp-toothed mouth wide and face lighting up, then adds, “One day, you’ll be stronger than those coven jerks. I know it! We’ll be totally badass together.”

Techie smooches him right there in public.


	24. Masquerade

The buttons of Bishop Ren’s suit are too tight, stretching over his broad chest and making it hard to breathe. He loiters uneasily in the shadows cast by the fireplace, clenched fist pressed hard to his mouth, set in an anxious line. Burning in his inner pocket is a letter composed of elegant loops and signed, “Yours, General A. Hux.”

They’ve yet to meet, brought into correspondence with each other initially for (rather antagonistic) business, which grew into a startling intimacy.

_I dream of your lips against my ear, whispering into the night. Arms wrapped around me, dearest, as we move as one._

Ren is wracked with tremors while the guests keep arriving and clustering in the sitting room by the red glow of the flame. A flame like his lover’s hair, the only clue as to his physical appearance in a room full of intricate masks.

He shrugs out of his outer coat and hands it to a servant, swallowing dry. Ren cannot be a bishop tonight. His vows of celibacy and heterosexuality hinder him, hinder _them_ , and for that reason they must be tossed aside like his coat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and navigates the throng, following the flow of people towards the ballroom. His own mask, a solemn wolf, is firmly attached; Ren checks, just in case. Word that he has attended such a frivolous affair will not be taken well by the archbishop, should word get around. Doubtless it will; he is sinning for even entertaining the notion of laying with a man.

Blasphemy rises in his heart, furtive and furious. The Lord may strike him down dead, but he _will_ hold his lover tonight!

_I ache for you, lovely Ren. Our hearts beat in tandem._

Those words are only for him. His lover speaks no such sweetness to others, being a stern man.

A blur of red as one dancing couple twirls by! Ren’s heart races and he is carried on unsteady legs towards them. “If I may?” he says, voice low, and the blond woman in an eagle’s mask raises her smile to him.

“I would love to-“

“My apologies,” Ren cuts in, gruff, and adds, “I must speak with your partner.” He places his warm hand on Hux’s shoulder, fighting back a flush. This must be him, it must be. The woman’s smile turns knowing and she joins another partner for a dance.

The man with bright red hair, down to his shoulders with wide, bright blue eyes behind a mask of a clever little mouse. It wasn’t what he had imagined during the long nights alone in a much-too-big bed. Pulse pounding, “General?”

Another knowing smile. “Th-that is my brother you seek.” He has a soft lisp and a stutter-step to his voice. Charming, but not _his._ He blends back into the sea of bodies.

Ren tries again, this time struck by a long, lean man in the mask of a smug rabbit. The hair color is not right: it’s a rich, oak brown. Yet something about that regal, spine-straight stand is achingly familiar. Achingly Hux in essence.

“General?” he asks, and the man takes a sip of his champagne. His eyes flash when their gazes meet.

“Wrong title,” the man corrects with a laugh. “I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

Frustrated and unsettled, Ren gives up pretending he is here for any actual socialization; instead, his focus is single-mindedly directed towards finding Hux.

There’s two more red-heads afterwards: a strange, feminine-hipped man in a condor’s mask, and a wily weasel of a man with a beard. All hope is lost, isn’t it? Hux is nowhere to be found.

On the balcony, alone, Ren indulges in a drink. Yet another vice to damn him.

“Why, hello,” comes a crisp, smug voice. Ren whirls around and gets a faceful of cigar smoke, coughing and waving away the fumes. “Fancy meeting you here, Bishop Ren.” Something had given him away. Maybe _someone_ had given him away.

“General,” Ren breathes, and moves forward as if possessed to cradle the cheek of his little fox. A hand, warm and calloused, slides over his own. Sharp, icy eyes. Bow-shaped lips, pink and plush.

“Oh, come now,” he purrs. “Leave the titles for the bedroom.” Ren’s knees go weak. This is his Hux.

_You will call me General and kneel before me, awaiting benediction, you harlot. I will caress you to the sweetest completion until you cry praise. My Ren. Mine._

“Should we head out?” Ren asks, dazed, leaning forward until their foreheads are nearly pressed together, eyes locked on Hux’s lips and Hux only grins, pleased.

“Yes, please.”

Ren leaves the coat behind, forgotten.


	25. Communicating Across Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death!

With one, two quick kicks to the engine, it roars to life. Nimble fingers type:

* * *

 

_Hello! My name is William. I am broadcasting this message in hopes of receiving assistance. My planet has been evacuated, but I was left behind. There’s no way to leave that I know of. If anyone is out there, please advise?_

**Hi, William. I’m not sure if I can help. What are your coordinates?**

_Thank you for responding! You’re the only one so far. The universe is vast, isn’t it? Maybe my signal doesn’t have the strength. I’ll attach my coordinates. Thank you again!_

**Are you sure those are right?**

_Yes, of course~ I don’t understand why everyone left. I don’t leave my home much, but I doubt they forgot about me. The people would have warned me. Right? Oh, sorry! I never got your name._

**My name’s Matt. I’m a radar technician. Your signal reached my radar arrays even though they don’t work so good. That’s pretty damn cool. But there’s no way your coordinates are right! That would mean you’re on Vesuvius V.**

_I **am** on Vesuvius V!_

**Something’s not right. Hold on, I’ll be back.**

_Please hurry… it’s dark and I’m alone._

**What year is it?**

_What? Matt, are you messing with me?_

**Answer the question.**

_24XX, day nine. Why? You’re scaring me…_

**William… That’s not this century. Vesuvius V hasn’t been inhabited for 150 years.**

_..._

**Hey?**

_What year are you in, Matt?_

**26XX. I live on a starship in space. And I’m… talking to someone who lives on a dead planet?**

_Why is… why did my planet get evacuated?_

[transmission interrupted]

_Matt? Matt, please come back!_

**William, I don’t know how to get you. But you have to leave NOW.**

_They took all the ships, most of the communicators… They forgot about me. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?_

**Stay calm. I’ve gotta, I’ve gotta talk to the- Shit. Shit, fuck. I’d have to _time travel_ to get you-**

_Matt. What happens to me?_

**I’m so sorry.**

_Stay on the line with me._

**I will, promise.**

_I’m sorry to drag you into this._

**I’m not. I’m glad I met you.**

**You have descendants, you know?**

**I looked you up.**

**Your ex-wife makes it off-planet safely.**

**You’ll have seven grandkids, William.**

**Maybe I even met one of your family, one day, and I didn’t even know it.**

**William?**

[transmission lost]

**I’ll meet you in another lifetime, maybe. The universe is vast, isn’t it?**


	26. Cemetery

It takes up all his saved-up shore leave and months of dogged investigating before Matt’s persistence pays off. A hint here, a whisper there, hours of sitting at coms and asking strange questions until… Finally! Finally.

And so broad, tall, awkward Matt stands at the door of a little hut in a backwoods planet, unknown even to the First Order who preys on such places, with a bouquet of wildflowers in his arms. He knocks lightly, but even so it’s too hard, too loud in the eerily-still quiet of the forest path.  

When a blonde teenager, fourteen at most, with a smattering of pale freckles on her nose and big, hazel eyes opens the door, she smiles up at Matt. There’s something fae-like about her, maybe the slight point to her ears or her knowing smile…

“Hello! Glad you could come! Mum’s over this way,” she says, taking his rough hand without fear and pulling him past the threshold. The roof is low, walls curling up and in. The ground is compacted earth with certain areas covered in a thin, even layer of stone. Their house is inside a hill, Matt realizes, and his heart seizes. Surely, he would have loved that.

In the kitchen there are herbs and spices all around the walls on wooden, slanted shelves. Matt takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the scent and then the girl takes him to the back door, another low-hanging doorway of old but sturdy wood. There’s another woman here, the one he’d spoken with a few days prior.

“Matthias,” the woman says, smile matching her daughter’s, and puts down the woolen blanket she’d been folding onto a woven-straw chair. “I wasn’t sure you would come. All this is more of a family thing, you know? I never expected an outsider to be interested.” Her eyes, already brimming with warmth, soften even further. “If what you’ve told me is true… He means a lot to you.”

Matt clears his throat, face flushed. “He… he does.” Shifting his weight from one foot to the next, hand still in the girl’s. She watches him curiously.

“Show him the back, Nazira.”

The girl -Nazira- is gentler when leading him to the backyard. Past the stooped doorway, past the long, long rows of raised stones with engraved names, painstakingly re-carved to preserve even the ones from decades ago.

All alone, all the way at the end, is one single grave. There’s nothing special about it, not really, except the incredible calm that envelopes Matt when he gets near it, like the embrace of an old friend. “The grave is empty, obviously,” Nazira says, solemn, “But we wanted to put him amongst his family all the same.” She takes a quick peek at the overcome expression on Matt’s face and takes her leave.

Matt falls to his knees. He places the wildflowers on the ground of the grave and puts his hand on the stone. “Hey, William… It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

_William Huxley_

_2434- 2468_


	27. Trick - Treat

**Treat**

“No, it’s not a lie

For you, anything, my love,”

Fingers crossed, Armie.

**Trick**


	28. First Halloween Together

Stensland takes Clyde’s face in his hands and coos. “We’ll have a wonderful Halloween, lots of drinking! Maybe I’ll get totally pissed and give you a lapdance in public! Very sexy one, I promise! I’ve been practicing!” He’s perched very securely in Clyde’s wide lap and shifts until his arms are wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together.

“Gonna show you off, lovely! You’d like that?” Stensland asks excitedly. He’s so pumped to have everyone meet his beautiful, beefy boyfriend. Such a sweetheart, this man.  Clyde came into Stensland’s life like a revelation, salvation. All those Catholic-type terms.

Clyde swallows hard, nervous. Their party promises to be big- _too_ big… His anxiety tends to flare up, but for Stensland, he’d do anything. No question. He takes Stensland’s hand with his own and kisses each individual finger. 

"C'mon," Clyde says. "Let's go get everything ready."


	29. Horror Movie AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some violence!

The party goes well until it goes horribly wrong. People come in costumes of all types: sleek cats and fluffy dogs, Disney princesses and DC heroes, serial killers… A _lot_ of serial killers. Clyde has counted four Michael Myers already.

Stensland is, bless him, drunk as a skunk an hour into the festivities and confessing his life story to a woman dressed as Marge Simpson, who gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Clyde trails close behind, finding it easier to breathe with his sweetheart nearby. The amount of people is staggering; the entire town must be crowded into this bar.

Stensland stops his dramatic sobbing just in time to catch Clyde’s gaze and gives him a watery smile, wiping his nose. Clyde really shouldn’t find that as adorable as he does. Chest warm and fluttery, he makes his way closer to his boyfriend when-

There’s a piercing scream, the party dissolves into chaos as, one after another, people fall to the floor. Dead. Clyde’s military training kicks in, immediately he’s on high alert and reaching for the nearest possible weapon: an empty beer bottle. “Stensland!” he yells, pulse thrumming in his ears. Clear as day, one of the Michael Myers stabs a man in the side of the throat and down he goes, gurgling as blood pours from his lips and neck. It’s a real fucking goddamn _knife_ , not a prop!

Clyde’s search for Stensland turns frantic. Where is he? Where did he GO? The bar has two exits, Stensland was closest to the front. The murderer has friends: right outside the bar, visible from the windows, are a group of men holding machine guns, covered in black to be unidentifiable. Nobody is getting out alive, are they?

This is fucked up, Clyde is swaying on his feet with terror but Stensland- _Where is Stensland?_ And then the windows shatter all at once, raining glass on the few survivors left who clutch each other and sob. Those in front of the windows drop with a sickening _thud._ The killer in the Myers mask is laughing, coming closer, that sick fuck, saying, “Happy Halloween, motherfuckers!”

Still no sign of Stensland. Clyde stays far away from the windows, pressed against the far wall near the bathrooms as the armed men pile through the shattered windows. Clyde grabs the closest person to him hard by the wrist and drags them into the men’s bathroom with him. That damn lock has been busted for years, and it won’t be of much use tonight.

He stands on one of the closed-lid toilets and motions for the woman to do the same. When he gets a good look at her -the Marge!- Clyde takes her by the shoulders and asks, desperate, “Have you seen Stensland?” She shakes her head, sobbing, and Clyde gives her a boost to reach the tight, smashed-open window. The woman makes it safely to the outside, with Clyde following behind just when the bathroom door is shoved open.


	30. Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death!

The scene outside is worse. Bodies are strewn across the parking lot as the gunmen loot and rain bullets into anything that moves. It’s dark, such a fucking _dark_ night, with nothing but a blood-orange moon to give any light at all. There’s thick dust kicked up by the people running, trying to escape, and then more thrown up by the vehicles of some of the attackers as they circle like predators.

Clyde ducks into some bushes and bites back a sob when he finds Stensland half-dead, bleeding out from a stab wound to the thigh. It seems like he’d gotten stabbed and then as far as the bathroom window before he tumbled down hard. He lies on the ground breathing shallowly, eyes closed.

“Stensland, darlin’, wake up,” Clyde sobs urgently. There’s a lull in the screaming; most everyone is dead or dying. He gently scoops his love into his arms and buries his nose in the crook of Stensland’s neck, taking in his familiar scent for the last time. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, and presses a kiss to the soft skin of his cheek.

“Clyde, it hurts…” With a rough, wet cough, Stensland spits up speckles of blood. There’s another gash somewhere on his chest: red seeps through the white of his meant-to-be Pirate’s costume.

“Stay with me, please, oh lord, Stens… I can’t… I can’t live without you,” Clyde whispers, eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry, lovely,” Stensland says, voice faraway, and then breathes his last.


	31. Things that go Bump in the Night

Stensland bolts straight up in bed with a shriek, accidentally elbowing Clyde in the side, who wakes up alarmed with his heart racing. “Stens! Are you, are you o-“

“Oh,” he gasps, panting hard, “Oh, that was so _scary!_ Clyde! You were crying, and I was _dead_ and the guy in the mask… guns! Guns everywhere! Marge Simpson was there, and so was I! Oh fuck, fuuuck!” Stensland tries to get himself under control but starts hyperventilating until Clyde wraps him up in his strong, warm arms and presses soft kisses to his pale, thin shoulder.      

“We’re okay,” he promises in his sweet southern drawl. “We’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you, Stens.”

It takes a while but Clyde’s cuddles and words have their intended effect: Stensland slides back into bed with him, relaxed once again, and they share a sleepy kiss.

A good nightmare once in a while can catch them off guard, of course, but… Stensland isn’t afraid of things that go bump in the night anymore, not with Clyde by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I was able to finish all the prompts... for once in my life I finish something?! Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos <3 I couldn't have done it without the lovely words of encouragement. It means a lot to me that someone actually read this far ;U; If you had any favorite prompts, let me know! I've been thinking of expanding some of them. Thank you again <3 <3 <3


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